


Solace

by Melusine6619



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusine6619/pseuds/Melusine6619
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas finds comfort in the arms of a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

> A follow up to Shadowed Heart. Meant to be the second in a series, which may or may not be completed.

“How could I have been so foolish?”

From across the small table, Elrohir said nothing. Legolas had decided to talk after all, and this particular question had been put to him more than once already. He had no answer, and he hated that, but there was little he could do as his friend worked through his heartache. Now he watched as Legolas tossed the remainder of his wine back and held out his goblet for a refill. 

Elrohir eyed him in concern. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” 

“I’ve only had five glasses.”

“Six, and you’ll regret it in the morning, if you have more.”

“I have regrets enough to counter it. I shall hardly notice a headache,” Legolas said bitterly. “Come. One more.” 

Regrets. Elrohir knew all about those. He had thought he would have time to confess his feelings for the Mirkwood archer when he and Elladan had arrived in Rohan to come to Aragorn’s aid, but he had not counted on Legolas coming to love another. Perhaps he should have said something sooner, but then again, he had not known he was in love with Legolas until he had been walking out of Imladris with the Fellowship. 

“Elrohir?” 

Legolas’ voice startled him. With an effort, he pulled himself from his morose thoughts. Tonight was not about him and his loss; this was about his friend, who needed him, needed him to be a friend and not a discarded would be suitor. He shrugged when Legolas threw him a puzzled look. He refilled the cup and watched as the prince drank as if he had gone days without.

Elrohir raised his own cup and sipped more slowly. “What will you do now? Do you still mean to bring some of your people into Ithilien?”

“I don’t know,” Legolas whispered, slowly lowering his goblet and staring into it. “I promised. I promised him.”

Elrohir’s hand clenched tight around his cup. “I don’t know how you could do it, to be near someone you love and not be able to tell him, settling for friendship when you want his love. Will that be enough for you?”

“If it’s all I have, then yes,” Legolas answered honestly.

“And when it’s not enough, what then?” Elrohir probed. 

Legolas looked up at last and Elrohir wished he could take the words back. Tears glistened in the prince’s eyes, and Elrohir had to still his hand to stop it from reaching up and smoothing them away. Instead he rose to his feet, holding out that same hand and said, “Come, let’s get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I doubt it,” Legolas murmured, but he set his glass down and allowed Elrohir to help him stand. “But thank you.” 

He staggered a little and Elrohir caught and held him close. Legolas’ scent and the feel of the lithe body in his arms set his own to trembling. There was an answering shudder from Legolas, and it took him a moment to realize that it was his friend struggling to hold back tears and not a reaction to his proximity. Elrohir sighed and told his awakening lust to take a swim in the Anduin. This was not the time for it, not with Legolas drunk and reeling from heartbreak. He could not—would not, take advantage of the situation, as much as he might want to. He waited until Legolas seemed to be calmer and gently righted his friend, stepping back. 

Elrohir had just mastered himself when Legolas moved close and touched his lips to his own. A thrill jolted through him, and he gasped at the sheer pleasure of it. Legolas increased the pressure of his mouth until Elrohir’s lips parted further, and before Elrohir could think he felt Legolas’ tongue brush against his own, and oh, gods, yes, it was so good. Whatever Elrohir had been about to say, whatever thoughts he had mustered, splintered away to be lost to the winds.

Strong archer’s arms closed around him like bands of iron and held him tightly. A lesser Elf might have been frightened by the passion emanating from the other, but Elrohir moaned and stepped forward, closing the distance further. His hands tangled in the prince’s hair and he took control, his own tongue now invading Legolas’ mouth as he had let himself imagine so often of late. Never had he tasted anything so good, so perfect. He slid his lips away, tilting Legolas’ head to the side for better access to his throat.

It was the whimper from above that brought him back to his senses. He raised his head slowly and looked up. Legolas’ skin was flushed, he was breathing hard, and Elrohir knew he could have him then, if he wanted. And gods, how he wanted. He drew in great gulps of air and loosened his hold on the prince.

Legolas looked at him, desire, confusion, and sadness chasing each other across his features. “Why did you stop?”

Elrohir looked away. “I . . . can’t . . .”

“But . . . I know you prefer males.” 

“It’s complicated,” Elrohir grated out, trying to ignore the pain in Legolas’ voice.

“Is there someone else? Or is it that you do not desire me? Am I so ugly, so off-putting?”

This time the voice was flat, defeated. Elrohir cursed. “Do not desire you?” He caught Legolas hand and pressed it to the bulge in his breeches. It was a mistake, and he knew it, even before Legolas wrapped his fingers around his girth and began to stroke, but his body, heart, and soul, had over-ridden his brain. His half-lidded gaze locked with Legolas’ own. “Do not mistake good intentions for lack of desire.”

Outside the last of the fireworks display erupted, the glow flaring, dying, flaring again upon Legolas’ face. Elrohir watched the play of light upon Legolas’ face, highlighting his beauty--and his vulnerability. He should stop this now . . . Now.

“I’m not a child. I need this. I need to forget . . . I need to feel something other than pain this night. You’re my friend,” Legolas entreated. “Please, ‘Roh, help me forget.”

“Valar help me,” Elrohir muttered, just before his mouth closed over Legolas’ to show him just how very desirable he did find him.

With lips, teeth, and tongue, he explored as far as he could down the prince’s throat, back up again to plunder the mouth emitting cries of need and pleasure. He wanted to feel more, to know the texture of the body hidden beneath the layers of clothing. His hands slipped between them to undo the clasps of the dress robe his friend wore, but they shook so badly he could hardly manage the simple task. He drew a deep breath to calm himself and tried again. The garment fell into a heap on the floor, the under-tunic quickly following. 

“How you can think you’re ugly is beyond me,” Elrohir said, his appreciative gaze roaming the archer’s lithe frame. 

Legolas’ gaze darkened and before Elrohir could say more the Mirkwood prince was in his arms, his mouth fastened on his, lips drawing pleasurable moans from him, and the last of Elrohir’s better instincts were shoved aside. He decided that, seeking comfort or not, Legolas wanted this and he was not about to deny him. Or himself. 

He urged Legolas toward the bed. Legolas sprawled back upon it and Elrohir followed him down, pressing him into the mattress, trying to temper the raging lust searing his body into something more manageable. Taking Legolas to bed had not entered his mind when he had gone in search of him, but now that they were here, in bed together, Elrohir was determined to make it pleasurable for them both. He wanted to take it slowly, to seduce as much as comfort.

Legolas had other ideas. He caught Elrohir’s face between his hands as he bent for another kiss. “There’s no need to persuade me,” he urged. “Take me, Elrohir. Fuck me and make me forget.”

He shivered and closed his eyes. He had forgotten, for a moment, that this was about need, and need alone, and he was the one here. He was as good as any other, and that was galling, but not nearly as much as the fact that he was not good enough. Not the one Legolas wanted. He told his heart to be quiet, to listen to his cock, as it had so often in the past. For now Legolas wanted him, and he wanted to fuck. 

He could do that.

“Don’t worry, I will.” Elrohir promised, pulling away. “Just let me get something to--.”

A hand tightened on his arm. “No. No, I don’t want to wait even for that.”

Elrohir started to protest but the determined look on Legolas’ face stopped him. He swallowed thickly. “If you insist. We’ll do it your way then, up to a point.”

Legolas nodded. He had kicked off his shoes and was now struggling with the laces of his trousers. Elrohir sat back and began tugging off his own clothing, throwing it aside, heedless of where it landed. He was back covering Legolas once more, the feeling of the archer’s bare skin heating his own, making him shiver. He had imagined this countless times the last few months, had hoped to be here some day, but it was better than his dreams. Legolas’ body fit his in a way no one else’s ever had, and he knew he would never find another to equal it. Nor did he want to search.

If there was anything to dampen his ardor now it was the phantom of Aragorn rising in Legolas’ eyes. With a growl, Elrohir bent his head to ravish the prince’s mouth, determined to drive it permanently away. The moans coming from Legolas were gratifying, and he sought more of them. He levered himself up so that he could maneuver a hand between them, grazing a hardened nipple, reaching lower to stroke the taut abdomen, brushing over the moistened tip of Legolas’ proudly jutting length.

Elrohir had to taste him. He moved, shifting lower, peppering kisses here and there as he worked his way to his goal. Pausing, he raised his head to find Legolas watching him, his features tense, desire clouding his gaze. Elrohir smiled. That was what he wanted to see there, nothing else, at least for now. He smiled and licked his lips, loving the tremor that rushed through the archer’s frame at the gesture.

“Please.”

The huskily-voiced word stirred Elrohir from his regard, and he bent to swipe his tongue up the underside of Legolas’ cock before lapping around the head. He repeated the motion again, only taking the full length in his mouth when Legolas begged, earning him the supreme satisfaction of hearing his name fall from the archer’s lips in a passion-roughened voice.

For several moments Elrohir enjoyed teasing him, savored the taste and feel of him, but his arousal demanded attention and before long he employed all his skill to bring Legolas to completion. The archer cursed, moaned, demanded, all in turns as Elrohir drew upon him. 

“I’m close,” Legolas panted.

Elrohir moved swiftly, Legolas’ shaft popping out of his mouth and his fist closing around it all before the archer could protest. “I want to watch you when you come.”

He watched, rapt, as Legolas closed his eyes, face contorting in pleasure, as hot seed spurted over his hand. Gods, Legolas was even more beautiful when he came, and Elrohir wanted to see that look again and again. He wanted to lie next to him, hold him close, but there were more pressing matters at hand. He ached to be inside his friend’s body, to cleave hot flesh with own. To drive away loneliness and thoughts of others. To show Legolas how it could be between them if he let go of a love that could never be.

Quickly he smeared his fingers through the cooling cum, his other hand smoothing over Legolas’ thigh to urge them to spread for him, but the archer was already doing so, wantonly pulling his knees back and holding them. 

“Go on,” Legolas whispered. “I want this, ‘Roh. I need it. Need you.”

“I’m here,” Elrohir assured him, “and I’m not going anywhere.” 

With shaking hands he prepared Legolas to take him, the tightness and heat that awaited him making him struggle for control. Making him moan in harmony with Legolas as he found the bundle of nerves that made his body jerk. It was all he could do to not throw Legolas’ calves over his shoulders and plunge inside him, whether he was ready or not.

Legolas touched his forearm impatiently. “Enough. Take me.”

His fingers paused in their task, Elrohir flicked gray eyes to Legolas’ face. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he replied, but he withdrew the long digits and began to smear the remainder of Legolas’ release on his shaft. 

The archer rolled over in one fluid motion, presenting his backside to Elrohir, while he braced himself on hands and knees. Elrohir’s tongue darted out to moisten dry lips. He moved close, took himself in hand, slid the head of his cock along the crease between firmly molded globes, teasing the stretched entrance. Legolas pushed backward with a growl. 

Elrohir chuckled, but obligingly shoved into the snug channel, stopping only when Legolas let out a slow breath. He released his own and closed his eyes at the intense pleasure. He could have come then and there, but Elrohir was not about to ruin what might be his only time with Legolas by spilling right away. Leaning forward, he pulled Legolas’ hair to the side before licking a wet stripe along the smooth neck. He playfully nipped the lobe of Legolas’ ear.

“Now, I believe you wanted to fuck?” 

“Do it. Gods, just do it,” Legolas panted.

“Anything for you,” Elrohir murmured, withdrawing almost all the way before snapping his hips forward and impaling Legolas to the hilt. 

The archer moaned and met his thrust with a counter motion, and Elrohir was lost. No more words passed between them, only the mutual sounds of pleasure given and received, as Elrohir drove steadily into Legolas’ welcoming body. Speech was impossible anyway. There was nothing Elrohir could say to describe how good it felt to be coupling with the one he now treasured above all others. Instead he conveyed his emotions through the caress of a hand over a taut thigh and buttock, through the ardent kisses that he paused to bestow on wide shoulders. Let Legolas read into it what he might.

He felt the archer’s body begin to tighten and reached to grasp Legolas’ cock, stroking in time with his own deep thrusts. Legolas shuddered and bucked into his hand and for the second time that night spilled his seed over Elrohir’s hand. Elrohir raised it to his lips, licking it clean before succumbing to his own breath-stealing climax.

Slowly, reluctantly, he eased out of Legolas’ body and moved to lie on his side. Legolas was quiet as he did the same, facing him, his gaze searching. Elrohir hid his true feelings behind a roguish smile. 

“Better?”

“A little,” Legolas replied, his own lips upturned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Only a little?” Elrohir asked, rolling to his back, pulling Legolas with him. “Well, we’ll have to fix that then, won’t we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Legolas came to wakefulness slowly. He turned his head to the side. With no small amount of relief, he noted that Elrohir slept on. He watched him for a moment, his mind lingering on last night’s activities, his face reddening at the memory. Though Elrohir had been right about his not needing to be alone, he wondered how he could ever look him in the face again. 

He started to rise and bathe, hoping to be dressed before Elrohir awakened. His backside protested the movement, and he paused, grimacing. Well, he had asked for it, asked to be fucked, and Elrohir had obliged quite nicely. Better than nicely, Legolas mused, the frown clearing to be replaced by a tiny smile, and his misgivings about the situation likewise evaporating. He might have thrown himself at his friend, but Elrohir could have refused the overture. Legolas was glad Elrohir had gone in search of him the night before. He had never been so well-ridden in his life. His smile widened. He had not known Elrohir was capable of such passion. Such fire. Strange, that.

Indeed, once Elrohir had gotten over his shock and had taken command of the situation, thoughts of Aragorn had evaporated completely from his mind. 

Before he could wonder further at that, Elrohir stirred and a sleepy voice asked, “How do you feel?”

He turned to find Elrohir watching him, an unreadable expression on his face. Legolas hesitated, uncertain of how to answer. How did he feel? So many emotions rippled through him: gratitude, affection, confusion, guilt. He should not have used Elrohir as he had, even if he had not seemed to mind. But above all of that, he felt renewed, as if the broken pieces of his heart had been put back together. He would heal. Not today perhaps, nor tomorrow, but one day.

He reached for Elrohir’s hand and smiled. There was only one thing to say, and he offered it now, in a warm whisper. “I feel fine.”

The End


End file.
